The warehouse screamed as the fire consumed it. Beams groaned, walls split, the air thick with smoke so dense it burned the lungs raw, “MOVE!” Marcus roared through the chaos, dragging two bleeding soldiers toward the exit.But Denilson didn’t move. His boots held fast to the floor, his eyes locked on the prisoners chained at the far wall. Their faces were blackened with soot, their bodies trembling, but their eyes God, their eyes begged.Save us, Jenna coughed, tugging at his arm. “Denilson, we have to go! The whole place is collapsing!” Flames licked the rafters above. Sparks rained down like a storm of fire. The heat was suffocating, sweat pouring down his face, mixing with blood.But the chains. The voices. His father’s men, He couldn’t leave them, “Stay low,” he growled, shoving Jenna toward the exit. “Go with Marcus.” Her eyes widened in horror. “No. No, I won’t leave you!”, Denilson grabbed her shoulders, his grip iron. “Go, Jenna! I said go!”Tears streaked her ash covered fac

“DOWN!” Denilson roared, dragging Jenna to the ground. He rolled, snapping off shots, felling one soldier, then another. The recoil tore at his burned hands, but he didn’t stop, Marcus was already moving, revolver flashing, his aim merciless. “Push left! Don’t cluster they’ll cut us down like dogs!”But chaos reigned. The freed prisoners stumbled, some too weak to even crawl. Denilson’s surviving lieutenants shouted orders, but panic drowned them out. Men clutched each other, sobbing, rifles shaking in their hands.Victor’s forces advanced in formation, a black wall moving through the firelight. Their boots struck the ground like a drumbeat, relentless, unbroken.Victor himself walked behind them, calm, almost leisurely, his smile gleaming in the inferno’s glow, “You can’t run, wolf,” he called, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Your fire is ash. Your men are broken. Surrender, and I’ll even make it quick.”Denilson’s blood thundered.He looked at the wreck of his forces, the wou

Darkness, It pressed heavy, endless, suffocating. Somewhere far off, a voice called his name sometimes Jenna’s desperate cry, sometimes Marcus’s gruff bark, sometimes a stranger’s iron command, Denilson clawed against the void. Each breath was fire. Each heartbeat a thunderclap.Then light, He jolted awake with a ragged gasp. His chest burned like molten iron, every rib screaming, but he lived, Canvas rippled above him. The smell of smoke, blood, and herbs filled his nostrils, His hand twitched against rough blankets.A low, familiar voice rumbled beside him, “Took your damn time waking, boy.” Denilson turned his head with effort. Marcus sat at his side, coat torn, face bruised, but alive. His revolver rested across his knees, as if even here, in this makeshift tent, he refused to rest.“Where…?” Denilson’s voice was a rasp, “Safe enough,” Marcus muttered. “Roland’s men dragged us clear. A hidden camp, north ridge. You’ll live, though the medic swears you danced with the Reaper.”Deni

A serpent coiled around a crown, His blood chilled, The Castillos, Not allies. Rivals. Another dynasty clawing for the same throne. And now they had chosen this battlefield to bare their fangs.“Marcus!” Denilson barked, dragging in a ragged breath, The old wolf cursed under his breath, reloading with steady hands. “Bloody Castillos. Vultures, the lot of them. Came to feast while we’re half-dead.”Jenna’s pistol cracked, dropping another of Victor’s men. She turned, her face pale. “Are they with us or against us?”, Denilson’s chest heaved, blood soaking his bandages. His grip on his rifle shook, but his voice cut through the chaos.“They’re never with us. Only with themselves.”Roland appeared at his side, his blade dripping, his eyes sharp,“We hold until they show their hand,” Roland growled. “If they strike Victor, let them. If they strike us, we gut them where they stand.”The Castillos’ riders thundered closer, their rifles spitting fire, cutting through Victor’s retreating men. S

Blood, So much blood, It poured from Denilson’s stomach in a river, pooling black in the dirt. His breaths came in wet gasps, each weaker than the last, his eyes glassy as if the night sky itself had swallowed him.Jenna pressed both hands against the wound, sobbing, her voice raw. “Don’t you leave me not now, not like this!” Her palms slipped, crimson covering her arms, her dress, her face. “Stay with me, Denilson! Please!”Marcus barked orders around them, his revolver raised, his voice thunder. “Form a circle! No one touches him, you hear me?!”, The wolves staggered into position, their bodies shaking, battered, bloodied, but still obeying. Their rifles lifted, their eyes wild with fear and fury.Roland knelt at Denilson’s other side, his scarred face hard, his hands surprisingly steady. He tore strips of cloth, pressing them to the wound with ruthless efficiency, “He’s fading,” Roland growled. “If we don’t move now, he’s gone.”Jenna’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing through tea